Log in

Charloft Winter Bingo

champagne holiday feast wise men oil tissues
Krampus flight mince pies cozy dance
rudolph angel rosebud snowblind
Grinch annual Vixen calendar nutcracker
feast comforter bumble goose firewood

Get your own CharLoft Winter Bingo Card at http://www.labarc.com/Bingo/

Meme time

Under the cut, darlings.

Keep calm and..Collapse )


Something I am never without...

My top hat, of course! It belonged to mi abuelo, and his abuelo before him, and oh, for so many genertions of Vargas necromancers.

Someday I will pass it on to mi nieto o nieta. Or Carlotta's grandchildren, if I don't have any of my own.

Two Difficult Conversations

Darling, I have difficult conversations every day. It comes with the territory.

Try telling someone that their grandfather's face has rotted off in the twenty odd years he's been corpsified without proper necromantic intervention.

Or that their beloved dog Sparky's skeleton is missing a few vertebrae since your new dog dug him up last spring.

Ay, ay ay...

Two particularly difficult conversations though?

Well, there was the breakup between myself and Katrina. The first breakup, that is - the one where we swore never to see each other again, and she called me every name in her considerably large book of insults. Not that I was entirely blameless, of course! I did tell her that the corpses I work with have more warmth than she does... though it's true

The second time around was less conversational and more murderous intent, so I won't include it here. Moving on!

There's that annual conversation I have with Rhonda over her Christmas bonus. Ah my little corpseflower, my wonderful secretary whom I raised (from the grave) near a full decade ago...

She insists on a bonus, no matter how the year has been. And this is in addition to her raise!

So having to explain that the bonus this year, due to Katrina nearly destroying my business and trying to kill me circumstances entirely beyond my control was going to be a small one... did not go over very well.

But I think that the "I got my resurrection at Necrotic Technologies Inc" t-shirt is charming, don't you?

Fall Traditions

Día de los Muertos is the most important day for a man of Heck's profession. It's weeks of preparation. Everyone who is anyone wants someone reanimated for the occasion. Down in his workshop, the spicy scents of hemlock and sage mingle with the acrid chemical tang of embalming fluids and chloroform. In the brick oven upstairs, his sister roasts chestnuts and chorizo sausage. Both upstairs and downstairs scent mingle as he walks up the stairway between.

It reminds him of childhood - abuela in the kitchen stirring her cast iron pot, and abuelo in the laboratory brewing elixirs.

"Hector, mi hijo, Carminia mi hija-- someday you will follow our path."

A stipulation of their will, that they never be reanimated - their bodies cremated as assurance. Close to that day when the veils are thin, however-- when this house their grandparents lived in smells so traditional, so familiar -- Heck feels their presence. Knows they would approve.


"Come on Heck, just try it--" Charmaine urged, holding up the mixture. The color and texture screamed FRUIT in a disturbingly healthy way. She'd concocted the mess in the blender, scraped it off the sides and put it into a glass with a straw plopped into the thick liquid.

"Does it contain any coffee?" Heck asked. Though he already knew the answer he took the glass.
Charmaine snorted. "Just drink it."

"This looks like something I've been slimed with...." Heck jabbed the viscous concoction with his straw.

"Dr. Merryweather said you need to eat healthier."

Heck sighed, then slurped.

Day trip

"You need to relax," Charmaine says, and that's all there is to it. Once she's put her foot down, there's no arguing. A picnic basket is packed and the entire office piles into the Corpsemobile for a 'relaxing day in the country, damnit!'

Heck sulks all the way there.

He perks up when the basket is unpacked. Chamaine's made empanadas gallegas from Abuela's recipe. Maybe his sister is right. He takes his top hat off, leans back against a tree. It's just one day. The world won't end while he bites into spicy meaty goodness and recalls his childhood.

Heck's Hat

Hector Vargas, Heck to his friends, hardly went anywhere without his top hat.

What else would a stylish necromancer wear? Whether he was summoning the undead or putting them back to rest, Heck's hat helped him look good while doing it. He'd never go to a job without it- just like he wouldn't go without his necromantic supplies. The top hat had been in the family for years now. Heck himself had inherited it from abuelo, who had been in the the family business since he was a young man. Abuelo had inherited it from his own grandfather.

More...Collapse )

For Auld Lang Syne

Hector Vargas -- oh. Hello.

Yes, thank you. I'm pleased you enjoyed our previous work.

Hm-- again? I thought we agreed last year...

Darling, I understand tradition. But really.

People are starting to... notice.

He's less than life like.

Just 'fess up, let people know he's coming at them live and undead from Times Square.

... fine. We'll have him up and running for the New Year.

Heck strode into the outer office. "Rhonda, see about the train schedule. It's another rockin' New Year's eve."

"Dick Clark job?" Rhonda asked as she brought up the NJ Transit site.

"Yes. Again," Heck sighed.

Office emergency!